A Little Something like Shakespeare
by The Jasper Raven
Summary: ["Dead Roses" Preview] [NoctLight] It just hit her that she was never going to see them again. Her friends, her family, her home - they were all lost to her. Then, a kind hand was offered to her in the chill of December and she realized she wasn't as alone as she thought.


**Author's Note: **This is a product of my hatred for the cold, my unhealthy obsession with all things Versus, and my new fascination with the Nocting pairing (my brother called it that one day so that's what I call it from now on XD). I'm thinking of making a multi-chapter fic for Noctis/Lightning and this is a** little slice of what I imagine would happen in it. (This isn't the chapter to start that I have planned).** My back story is still undergoing construction but, basically they met in the first Versus trailer battle…thing. Lightning got caught in the crossfire by accident and Noctis helped her out and let her stay at his place. Somehow, she got sent into the future – I'm still working on the "how of that" – and since she's out of sorts, she's accepted his help. And thus…this oneshot. It's a bit heavy on the prose and lacking in the dialogue but, I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

"**A Little Something like Shakespeare"**

For hours, she sat there on the frigid, hard bench, shaking against the brutal breath of December. For hours she sat alone, silently letting her heart fall to pieces. It had hit her like a crash-landing air ship – all of the sudden, and out of nowhere. The sharp, black building edifices, paying homage to corporal conquest, had finally enclosed around her, beating her confused thoughts into cruel realization. The Pulse she knew was long gone; the creatures she had once faced were extinct; and the people she had loved and fought alongside had long since been turned to dust.

They were gone. For centuries, they had been only memories, tiny footnotes in the history of Pulse's colonization. She was the last of the l'Cie. She was the last of her kind. Serah, her beloved sister, whom she'd torn a planet down to save, was gone. The boisterous NORA leader; the frantic, dark-skinned air pilot; the timid, confused teenager; the two native Pulsians, as different as night and day but, sisters nonetheless…Everyone Lightning cared about, were erased from existence.

Temperature never bothered Lightning, usually. She was a soldier, trained to withstand all extremes. She had taught herself to be numb to all feeling. It was the cold that numbed her now though, and she couldn't deny how her vulnerability to the elements stemmed from the irrepressible agony of loss. She cursed herself for not wearing something more sensible, for keeping her body so exposed to the harshness of winter. This wasn't Bodhum, where the sun always shined and the beaches were always hot. This new Pulse was cold and ruthless and no matter what strength she had to resist its elements, it was having its way with her.

Trying to focus on being warm instead of focusing on the pain of loneliness, Lightning drew her hands to her mouth, breathing white steam clouds onto her frozen knuckles. She knew she couldn't stay out much longer but, where did she have to go? She was a stranger in this city. The only door that had opened for her she had run away from. There could be no going back there…

Lightning grew to hate herself as she sat there, freezing to death. She hated how frail she'd allowed herself to become. She hated how she'd let weakness overcome her in that moment, alone on that bench. She hated the goddamn cold. The shivering racked at her bones, her breath coming with hoarse sounds that she tried to suppress. There was no one for her. They were all gone. Her entire being was meaningless and cold without them. So cold…

The envelope of warmth came as a shocking but, desperately accepted surprise. The dark fabric fell on her shoulders like silent, raven's wings and the hands that laid it there fell away as soon as she grasped it and fell into the warm confines. It was hardly a battle for her to reject the offered coat. She didn't want to be so in need, especially for _his _eyes to see. Noctis, the dark prince of this new Pulse, was the only one she had come to respect and she had adjusted herself to parallel his dignified air – if only slightly. He was the only one that saw her hurt. She never wanted that to happen again…and yet here they were. She was forced to accept his help again, forced herself to be seen in pathetic shards before his eyes.

No words were spoken as he stalked around the bench and alighted beside her like a falling shadow. The heat of embarrassment supplied her with more warmth as she felt his burgundy irises analyze every frantic shudder that went through her body. She hated him seeing her like this. She hated how he cared for her. She took care of herself; it had always been so. Why was someone like him taking care of someone like her; someone so regal and powerful, and beautifully dangerous, overseeing someone so chaotic and explosive, recklessly exposed? She shouldn't have needed _anyone's_ help. She should have been stronger…

He never ceased to watch her, even now. That precise gaze stayed upon her, making certain his coat was performing as he wanted and providing her the comfort her body required. She was too cold to reject the gesture and her fingers had already instinctively wound into the fabric, so tightly she doubted she'd ever be able to pry them off again.

"H-How did you f-f-find me?" she asked, failing to steady her voice.

She wanted to stop shivering, so he would stop staring – stop worrying. She didn't want him to waste his time caring about her. Clearly, he had far more pivotal things to concern himself with. She couldn't be in the way.

"You're not hard to find," he answered in that quiet, methodical voice she'd grown familiar with in those few short days.

She didn't know what that was supposed to mean and her brain was too hectic to try reading into it. Her forethought was the cold, both for herself and for him. In her peripheral she could see this was the only coat he brought, and even though he was dressed far better than her, she doubted that T-shirt kept in much warmth.

"T-Take it back," she managed to say past her chattering teeth, leaning slightly towards him so he could take the coat for himself. "You shouldn't have to suffer the cold because of me."

"You need it," he said in a firm voice she had heard once before when he gave an order. "I don't mind the cold. I've lived in it long enough to be used to it."

She expected he wouldn't take it back. That noble sense of chivalry was something she never would have wanted from any man but, with him – for now at least – she didn't mind. There was silence as she greedily nestled into the large trench-coat, wrapping it around her like a blanket, surrounding herself in his scent. It was musky, under-toned with faint traces of sandalwood, mingled with pine; it was surprisingly comforting. She pulled her knees to her chest, tucking her legs against herself and cradling deeper into the warmth he left her with. She made it her cocoon – her sanctuary – and managed to block out the freezing temperature enough to speak coherently and without stuttering.

"Why did you come find me?"

"You shouldn't be out here alone. We're at war. There's no telling what could happen. And you're not fully healed."

There it was: the worry she didn't want him to have for her. It was interfering with his time and she hated it. She never wanted to be a burden.

"It's just a cut."

"You were shot."

"I've had worse."

There was silence. No matter what trust she had gained for the benevolent prince between now and the time he had saved her, she still wasn't ready to spill her life story to him…not that he was asking about it.

"What scared you?"

The question was odd and Lightning knew it wasn't only the cold that confused her about it. She glanced at him, guilt stabbing her at seeing his bare arms but, fading when she saw no trembling or change in breathing. His breath came in small, even wisps. He was at ease – as he had said he would be – and gazed ahead at nothing, waiting for her to reply. She didn't know what she was replying to though and it took a moment for him to realize that.

"You ran away," he started, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Usually, when people run away from our house, it's because something inside scared them. What scared you? Was it my father or one of his associates, my friends or certain visitors?"

Lightning blinked once. It was her turn to analyze him, now that she could think more clearly. He was tense, she realized, as he asked her this. He stopped breathing in anticipation of her answer. Just as she wasn't ready to tell him anything, there were secrets he wasn't prepared for her to know either.

"I'm not scared," she answered, following his cranberry gaze to stare at nothing. "…Of anything."

There was a stretch of silence before he said, "You're lying."

Lightning shot a glare at him that was met with an intuitive sideways glance. Obdurately, she refused to concede to that stalwart gaze.

"You may fear nothing and no one from my house or anyone else's but, there's something that terrifies you, enough to drive you away."

Damn him and his intelligence, she thought. Damn those accursedly keen eyes. She held his inquisitive stare with one that demanded he leave it alone. He wouldn't surrender on this one though. Of all the things he didn't ask her, the one thing she wanted to keep to herself, he wouldn't leave alone. Deep inside, she knew he was only trying to help. She knew he saw how torn open she was. He was offering to be her confessional and she knew she could accept that invitation. She knew he wouldn't tell. Still, he was the one person she didn't want to have to know about her fears. It was bad enough he was seeing her so collapsed and in need. Telling him her true fears would only degrade her pride further.

He was just as stubborn as she was though, when he wanted to be. And she was still flustered with cold; that blunted her sharp concentration and will to deny him access to her feelings. She had met her match, she conceded, jerking her gaze away and curling against the walls of his coat, still serving as her own personal oven. Her remorse and longing for the home she had loved came seeping back. She tried to repel it but, knew her lips wouldn't stop her confession this time. Her eyes fell shut, trying to ignore his presence. Speaking to silence was better than speaking to another person. He seemed to understand this because she felt his eyes abandon her, and without any part of him intent upon her, he was almost like silence itself. So much so, it was enough to make Lightning say what he had coaxed out of her.

"It just hit me," she whispered, seeing their faces in the darkness of her closed eyes. "There's nothing for me here. Everyone I knew…everything I cared about…they've been dead for centuries. Why am I not with them?"

It wasn't much to listen to but, it was a lot for Lightning to say. The weight of her words now lifted, left Lightning feeling out of balance and almost made her feel light-headed. It was a shock to her system to be unloading her words and drained a lot of energy. Then she remembered that silence she was talking to had a face and panic flushed through her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, resenting how he had cracked her shield by taking advantage of her moment of vulnerability. He made no comment though and she saw no judgment or intent of any kind cross his features. He was indifferent, she noticed, and somehow…that made it okay.

He rose from beside her, like a black panther unfolding from sleep. He turned to her and she caught a trickle of some unreadable emotion in his crimson gaze before they resumed their stillness. Suddenly, his hand was presented to her in a way that made her feel like some ballroom lady being asked to dance – she had no doubts he'd done that millions of times before.

"I'll take you back to the estate. You'll get sick if you stay out here any longer."

She wouldn't argue against going indoors and sitting by his massive fireplace. His coat could only do so much for her. Regardless of her desire for that more intense heat though, Lightning still delayed herself that luxury. His extended hand had become an obstacle for her that she wasn't sure she was supposed to avoid. There hadn't been much physical content between them, except for the night he tended to her wound.

It wasn't a big deal. It was just a hand. Still, she was intimidated by him. He was so elegant, so poised, so…princely. And she was far from a lady of his court, or a damsel in distress. She stared at the black leather glove, waiting patiently – with more patience than she had ever been given before. How did he do it? she wondered. How was he so cool and calm? How could he kill a hundred men with ruthless, headstrong strokes, and yet still offer her a delicate hand with such grace and patience? She stared. He waited. The silence pressed on her.

Her fingers - engraved in his jacket - twitched, yearning to accept his hand. One hand of hers moved toward his but, stopped in uncertainty. He did not move, like a stone sentinel, watching everything in wise silence. Finally, she succumbed to her need for the unexpected comfort he offered her. Her hand hovered over his, her last vestiges of restraint tugging at her pride and keeping it suspended before snapping and letting her hand fall into his.

Like a water lily closing to the night, his fingers softly encased hers. It was a tender hold, something she hadn't expected to feel…or to like. She looked at him once more and found compassion in those deadly, garnet eyes. Then a smile as soft as lamb's wool caressed his lips. It was something she hadn't seen on him yet, and she discovered, she really liked that. It emphasized the kindred spirit she had witnessed when they met. It suited him better than his tortured frown.

"I'll protect you," he murmured, almost like he was asking permission to do so, emphasized by the sudden, tenderness in his gaze.

It was a very un-Lightning thing to do, to not have any response but an awestruck stare and vacant nod. His kindness overwhelmed her, from the very start, in contrast to his precise and effortless annihilation of that army. With the slightest addition of pressure, he gently guided her to her feet, she still clutching his coat around herself.

"Ready?" he asked in response to the vacancy on her face.

Lightning blinked a few times and nodded again. She was still a little stunned from unloading all her worries and almost freezing to death.

"Okay," he murmured, dark brows furrowing in comprehension over her expression.

Gently, like a breeze pulling ripples across a lake surface, he tugged her away from the bench. When she shuffled forward a little, his weightless grip began to lax. As instinctively as she had clutched his coat, she squeezed his hand to stop its release. An alien, unbearable urge for his touch, kept her holding on. The return gesture froze him for a second and he stared at her like an unsolved puzzle.

"Noctis," she said, the darkly alluring name playing on her tongue.

He nodded slowly for her to go on. Like the smile that he let flicker across his face as she accepted his hand, she let a rare smile, like opening blossom petals, to stretch across her own lips as he accepted her back.

"Thank you."

He smiled again, something she thought she might like to see more of. There was innocence in that smile that brought out his more boyish features. It added to his selfless nature, she thought.

"Let's get you home," he said, delicately squeezing her hand back.

She stared at him, letting his words ring around her ears. Home...She had thought it'd been a thousand years since she last had one to call her own but, there in that gentle red gaze she realized, she'd never been without one after all.

* * *

**Author's Note II:** I never planned for my first fic of Lightning to be with Noctis…or for it to be this long but, my muses commanded it to be so. I winged it with Noctis since I really am not to sure about him at all. All the other fics I've read have him way more open than how I portrayed him but…*Shrugs* I like him better this way and I don't think I could have worked Lightning with him if I didn't have him like that. And yeah…I know his eyes aren't always red. I'm working on it. So! I'm in desperate need for some detailed, comprehensive reviews. Give me pros and cons, whatever you can think of. I want all the feedback – both good and bad – I can get before trying to release a longshot of this. Thank you very much!


End file.
